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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29613177">Belladonna Whispering</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyanoka/pseuds/Nyanoka'>Nyanoka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Glory Dancing Among the Junipers and Dandelions [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword &amp; Shield | Pokemon Sword &amp; Shield Versions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Age Swap, Fantasizing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Ableism, Minor Blow Job, Praise Kink, Shota Dande | Leon, Shota Nezu | Piers, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Wet Dream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:55:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29613177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyanoka/pseuds/Nyanoka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As the younger brother, Leon is expected to act in a certain way and take certain roles, life decided beforehand and choices based simply on his older brother's.</p><p>It isn't something that Leon particularly cares for, but perhaps he should have considering going to someone else for help instead of his brother's best friend.</p><p>It would have certainly saved him the trouble of everything now.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dande | Leon/Masaru | Victor, Masaru | Victor/Nezu | Piers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Glory Dancing Among the Junipers and Dandelions [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175654</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Apple</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I actually started this story in October of last year, but I hit a prose wall that I only really recently got over tbh. Though, the state of emergency I got in my area meant I had to put off posting for a week too tbh. Though, the good news is that I now have a longfic Leon/Victor fic. I'm working on the Raihan/Victor longfic as well, but another prose wall was hit there in October too tbh. This chapter was supposed to go up yesterday, but I forgot because I did a 19 hour straight session of FFXIV...</p><p>As always, all chapters are done and will be posted on a schedule.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Leon doesn’t hate his brother.</p><p>How could he? He’s intelligent—the framed diploma and multiple accolades on their living wall are testament enough to that—kind, overly so even, and attentive. Despite their age gap of twelve years, Hop never ignores him, never swats him away or rebukes him in favor of his own interests and hobbies.</p><p>He remembers the early Saturday mornings Hop would spend with him, cereal bowl in hand and half-eaten, colorful marshmallows and softened wheat floating upon pink-dyed milk, and always cheerful despite his choice of shows—more episodic slapstick and the occasional drama over something like Proteam Omega. It isn’t that Hop dislikes them—he’s interested enough—but it isn’t true intrigue, more an older sibling humoring rather than anything else.</p><p>Nonetheless, Hop never voices his complaints, never does anything that would be considered a slight, irreparable or otherwise, and never disregards him, his feelings, or any special occasions—birthdays, New Year’s, and even more unofficial celebrations like Sibling Day. Instead, Hop never misses them, always plans his schedules around him and on the rare occasions when he couldn’t come home, calls him over video chat and sends a card and gift by expedited mail.</p><p>Even one of his earliest memories is of Hop, frazzled and disheveled, rushing home and through the door, wood meeting wall with a clattering bang, minutes before their mother had begun to cut the cake. No matter the occasion, Hop always found a way to wheedle himself in, make himself present. He never leaves him alone.</p><p>All in all, Hop is the perfect son and the perfect brother—attentive, kind, loving, honest, wholly sincere. Every trait that could be considered one’s man greatest virtue, Hop holds in spades, a perfect amalgamation of everything one would want in a person, in a brother and in a son.</p><p>Thus, Leon finds himself suffocating, stifled and chaffing even. It isn’t for a lack of care or for a lack of attention—both his parents and his brother love him, coddle him even—but for an excess of it.</p><p>He couldn’t quite escape his brother’s shadow, couldn’t quite meet anyone without his brother looming in the background—sometimes metaphorically, sometimes in a literal sense, and sometimes a combination of both.</p><p>He couldn’t be independent—he’s old enough to make his own decisions he thinks—nor could he meet anyone or do anything without his brother’s reputation tainting it.</p><p>Everyone in Galar knows of his brother after all—acclaimed researcher, one of Galar’s two chosen heroes, and current defending Champion.</p><p>He doesn’t hate or even simply envy his brother—he could never hate someone who treats him as well as Hop does—but he tires of being known only as his younger brother. He tires of the two-facedness of people interested in him only for his brother and of his parents’ comments, unintentionally hurtful in their comparison of him and Hop, and in their hopes for him, soft-spoken and kind yet hurting all the same.</p><p>“Do you want to follow in your brother’s footsteps?”</p><p>Certainly, he hears the words that come after, a reassurance of their support for his choices, no matter what they would be, but it still hurts, nonetheless.</p><p>Thus, he had found himself rebelling. He doesn’t go out of his way to damage his relationship with Hop—he doesn’t hate him after all—nor does he even try to. Instead, he finds himself fixating on the idea of victory, of defeating him in a championship match and usurping him.</p><p>It is a grand goal naturally, one his brother would encourage wholeheartedly, but he doesn’t want Hop to coddle him—to follow him every step of the way. That is what a starter from him would be. He knows his brother’s inclinations. If he were to receive something from him, it would be something tame, something easy to raise like his own Dubwool or Sonia’s Yamper.</p><p>Therefore, he doesn’t ask Hop for a starter. Instead, he asks his brother’s best friend during one of his rare visits home.</p><p>Though, they aren’t especially close. Victor spends more time traveling Galar and more time in Wyndon for his Battle Tower than in Postwick nowadays. Furthermore, at the age of nine, he himself is still two years too young for a Trainer’s license, one that would allow him to roam farther pass Wedgehurst without supervision anyhow.</p><p>He doesn’t expect a definite <em>yes</em>—<em>no</em> would be more likely—but still, he asks anyway on the night before Victor leaves Postwick and while his parents are away in Motostoke for their anniversary. He doesn’t make it a grandiose gesture—no wheedling flattery beforehand, no gifts or previous coaxing, nothing. Instead, he’s plainspoken, upfront in his desires.</p><p>“I want a Pokémon from you,” he says. Even the location and time, his porch underneath summertime’s night sky, aren’t all too special—no omens, half-moon or full or anything akin to a flock of crows appearing, no special occasions or timing, nothing.</p><p>He’s simple in his words and in his request.</p><p>Victor doesn’t decline then. He only raises an eyebrow, more curious than annoyed by his request.</p><p>He only asks a simple <em>Why?  </em>before shifting, leaning forward on the porch railing.</p><p>He hadn’t lied then either. Why would he? Despite their unfamiliarity with one another, he, at the very least, knows of Victor’s distaste for liars and bootlickers. He knows enough of that from his brother’s musings and from the bits he catches of their phone calls. Despite his unassuming appearance, forgettable and nondescript even with the aid of his makeup artists, Victor has a temper, a whimsical fickleness that made him difficult to approach.</p><p>Victor isn’t like his brother in most regards. He’s too plain in appearance and in manner, plain-clothed with a melancholic mien, and too quiet, lacking in that particular cheer and charisma that made extroverts like his brother especially popular. He’s too weird—too strange to a disconcerting extent—and outside of his position as the Battle Tower’s head and his past exploits, entirely unremarkable.</p><p>No degree from a prestigious university—officially, he hasn’t even finished high school yet—no known hobbies outside of a love for battling and cooking, and no real public presence outside of the Galar League’s mandated appearances and a scant number of interviews and photoshoots each numbering in the single digits.</p><p>Victor isn’t like his brother in most regards—Leon barely knows him outside of his battles, media coverage, and tidbits and rumors overheard—and thus, it makes him approachable, oddly easy to make a demand to despite their status as near-strangers. It’s easy enough when he doesn’t know the answer, when he could make up any number of replies and personas for him. There is no certainty with him.</p><p>He doesn’t know him like he does his brother.</p><p>Though, Leon doesn’t explain everything—doesn’t speak about his distaste for being overshadowed—but he says enough. He doesn’t want an “easy” starter or to be coddled.</p><p>Thankfully, Victor doesn’t press further, only nodding before he picks up his half-empty bottle from the porch railing—slender hand wrapping around a green glass neck—and moving toward the backdoor and the kitchen.</p><p>Leon follows after him naturally, words repeating once more, firm and sincere, as Victor only nods again, soon setting his bottle on the kitchen table with a light clink and turning to face him.</p><p>He doesn’t know him outside of what he sees on his phone screen—a mixture of old interviews, battle footage, and the rare livestream, always someone else filming in secret—and the rumors themselves. Victor is odd, overly secretive to an obnoxious extent, but that, combined with his friendship with Hop and his own status, only makes him a ripe source for rumors, sensible or otherwise.</p><p>A dead twin, a title and position based on favoritism and connections over skill, and most illogical of all, a thrown championship match.</p><p>Owing to his reclusive nature, Victor never dispels them, even going as far to end interviews immediately when asked, nor does he deny or acknowledge them outside of those occasions. It isn’t a particularly smart move—it only fans everyone’s interests and the slander and libel—but from what he hears and sees, Victor has never been particularly reasonable.</p><p>He’s seen that match. Really, who replaces half of their team and knowingly sends out Pokémon with type disadvantages? What reasonable person would choose to bench Zamazenta of all Pokémon for such an important match? He could understand doing so in a practice bout, but in a title defense match?</p><p>Blastoise against Venusaur, Corviknight against Boltund, and Sylveon against Hop’s own Corviknight.</p><p>He’s seen the match enough times to memorize the outcome and sounds, a cacophony of boos and noise as each of Victor’s Pokémon clashed and fell, and the expression on his brother’s face, eleven years younger yet surprise still apparent. It isn’t the elation one feels at a close match—it had been a complete landslide victory for his brother—or the surprise and joy of finally overcoming a longtime rival. It had been confusion.</p><p>Leon is keenly aware of that. The cameras had zoomed in on his brother’s expression then after all, action only adding to the rumors.</p><p>It isn’t helped at all by Victor’s expression afterwards, not disappointment or even simply relief at his loss—most could understand wanting to relinquish the title because of pressure, and Galar’s Champion title only passes through battle—but mere disinterest. It isn’t an unhappiness—that would be more understandable as well—but sheer apathy.</p><p>When he had turned to face the camera after recalling his downed Rillaboom, the smile hadn’t quite reached his eyes. That oddity and his choice to form the Battle Tower immediately afterward hadn’t helped rumors at all.</p><p>He’s watched the video enough times to notice the slight tensing of Victor’s Pokémon just before they’re downed—muscles tensing as if in preparation to dodge before relaxing, reflexes just a bit a smidge slower than those of Hop’s Pokémon, and aim just a bit off, grazing rather than direct hits.</p><p>It isn’t a thrown match—thrown matches have more finesse and realism to them he thinks—but it isn’t quite right either. He attributes it to stress, stage fright, or even simply the consequence of using freshly trained Pokémon but still, that doesn’t quite make sense entirely either, not with how his brother looks after his trips to the Battle Tower.</p><p>Frowning and frustrated and tenseness soon dissipating into cheeriness whenever Hop notices his brother’s presence. Whatever the case, it only adds to Victor’s oddness and to the growing rumors surrounding Victor and by extension, his brother.</p><p>He doesn’t believe most of them—not then and not now—but he couldn’t say that there isn’t a budding curiosity.</p><p>Nonetheless, it doesn’t quite matter to him, not now anyhow. He isn’t here to solve any mysteries. He only wants a starter, or rather the promise of one.</p><p>He isn’t old enough to travel alone yet after all.</p><p>Leon shifts, uncomfortable and nervous underneath Victor’s gaze, but he doesn’t turn away.</p><p>“Couldn’t you ask Hop?” he finally asks. “I know he’s excited about getting you one in a few years. He always tells me about it when we meet up.”</p><p>Leon shakes his head. “But I want one from <em>you</em>. You know how my brother is. You’re his best friend. You know he won’t get me anything difficult to raise an—”</p><p>“And you think I will?” Victor frowns. “They’re not toys, you know. You know how dangerous they can be for an inexperienced trainer. You’ve seen the news report last week about that rich dunce getting his kid a Deino, right? Tore his kid’s arm right off during a play session, and we almost had to put her down.” Victor taps a Luxury Ball on his belt then then. “I had to vouch for her—told the idiot I’d give him an invitation to the Battle Tower for her too.”</p><p>Victor snorts then before muttering, “Really, if he wanted to get his daughter a shiny, why not go for a Purrloin or one of the more domesticated species? A damn Deino of all things?” Another snort then before he continues, voice quieter than before, nearly inaudible. “Idiot won’t make it far up the Tower either, not with his slapdash team. It’s good on paper, but he doesn’t know how to command them.”</p><p>He doesn’t think his mom would appreciate Victor cursing in front of him, but he doesn’t think Victor means for him to hear it anyhow, not with how he briefly glances elsewhere, nose wrinkled in disgust and disdain readily apparent.</p><p>Still, Leon doesn’t pay much mind to Victor’s words. He already expects Victor’s standoffishness and his eccentricity.</p><p>“I know how dangerous they are,” Leon begins. “I’ve studied a lot of matches, and I’ve seen my brother handle them an—“</p><p>“You’re not your brother though,” Victor interrupts sharply, and he feels a strange thrill—an almost giddiness—at them despite the insult inherent in his words. “You don’t have his experience.”</p><p>“But I can learn,” Leon argues, keeping his gaze. He doesn’t like looking at Victor—his eyes are too cold—but he doesn’t have much choice, not if he wants a starter. “I can borrow some of my brother’s books or look up the info online an—“</p><p>Victor shakes his head. “It’s not the same as having actual experience. Why don’t you just accept a starter from your brother, and add onto your team after? It’ll be less of a hassle that way.”</p><p>“But I don’t want a starter from him.” He knows he sounds childish, but what else could he say? He doesn’t have much to offer or bargain with, and he doesn’t want to lie. He doubts Victor would want to do anything with him if he were to. They aren’t close, not like him and his brother. “I want one from you.”</p><p>A silence descends then, awkward and stilted, and Leon almost wants to turn away—Victor’s gaze is too sharp, too scrutinizing and lacking in the softness he’s used to—but Victor speaks before he does.</p><p>“Fine”—Victor crosses his arms and leans against the countertop—“but I won’t just give it to you.”</p><p>“That’s fine! I don’t mind!” Perhaps he’s a bit too giddy, but really, this outcome is better than what he had expected—less wheedling and pleading than he had expected. “I dunno if I can pay for it upfront, but I can save up my allowance an—“</p><p>Victor holds up a hand, and Leon pauses, stomach sinking as he hears Victor’s next words.</p><p>“Take a late start.” Victor crosses his arms again, expression unchanging. “It won’t be a decade or anything like that, but I won’t let you hurt yourself or whoever I give to you. I’m not that kind of person.”</p><p>Victor pushes himself off the countertop before his hand moves to rummage through one of the drawers, soon pulling out a pen and a notepad. Popping off the cap, Victor quickly scribbles on the notepad before ripping the sheet out, noise deafeningly loud in the silence.</p><p>Victor extends it toward Leon. “It’s my number. If you want something from me, you’re going to have to show me you deserve it.” He shakes the sheet lightly, an invitation to take it. “I want you to study up on Pokémon—type advantages, species care, all of that—and call me once or twice a week, so I can quiz you. I’ll send you the material.”</p><p>He gives a light laugh at Leon’s expression. “I don’t expect you to have a PhD by the end of it or know everything, but I expect you to have more knowledge than the average youngster or hiker. You already know a lot because your brother, right? Shouldn’t be hard at all.”</p><p>It’s a bit of an easy request in comparison to Victor’s previous disinclination—he’s a bit suspicious of it all things considering—but still, he doesn’t want to start late. Most people wouldn’t.</p><p>“Really”—Victor shakes the sheet again, almost mockingly, before tossing the notepad and capped pen back into its drawer, wood sliding close with a loud thump—”I thought you said you were willing to learn? A little extra time shouldn’t matter, right? If you’re not willing to, just ask your bro—”</p><p>“No!” Leon doesn’t mean to shout or jerk the slip from Victor’s hand, but he does. He isn’t rude. His parents had made sure of that. “I mean...I can learn, sorry. Just...what time can I call you?”</p><p>“Any time after seven at night and before three in the morning.” Victor clicks his tongue loudly, and Leon hears a thump from the living room before Victor’s Rotom phone appears, floating to hover in front of its owner. “What’s your email and number?” At Leon’s expression, Victor explains, fingers tapping his screen, “So I know where to send your homework and which number to answer. Unless you’re going to be using your house phone for everything? I have that one.”</p><p>Victor clicks his tongue again and Rotom whizzes to float in front of Leon. “Do you want to enter your contact info instead? I’m not going to send you weird sh-stuff or anything. It’s all just business.”</p><p>It’s a rather poor attempt at covering up his cursing considering his earlier words, but Leon doesn’t comment on it. He only nods before inputting in his information and name.</p><p>“So, when will I start?” he asks as his fingers tap the confirmation button, phone soon returning to settle on Victor’s palm. “I want to start as soon as I can, so—”</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Victor interrupts. “I’ll send you your texts tomorrow when I make it to Spikemuth.”</p><p>“Spikemuth?”</p><p>“Mm-hmm. I’m supposed to be helping Marnie out with something while she’s busy with her gym,” Victor says. “Spikemuth’s a booming town, ya know? She doesn’t have time for a lot of things.”</p><p>Leon isn’t quite sure why Victor frowns then, but he brushes it off. He doesn’t want to irk Victor further, not with their current agreement, and it isn’t like his frown remains for long, disappearing quickly enough.</p><p>Victor shakes his head before moving to the fridge, light soon spilling into the darkened kitchen. “So, is there anything in particular you want for dinner? It’s a bit late, but you don’t mind staying up, right? I can make a curry if you’re willing to wait. Otherwise, there’s some leftover pizza in here we can heat up.”</p><p>“Curry’s fine,” Leon says before pulling out a chair and sitting down. “But tomorrow? What time are you gonna get there?”</p><p>“Bit impatient, aren’t you?” Leon blushes at that, and Victor opens a cabinet, pulling out a pot. “Probably around 1 p.m. or so. I’m leaving early tomorrow—7 a.m. sharp—and my Talonflame’s a fast flyer, but I want to admire the scenery, you know?” Leon hears Victor curse lightly as the pot’s lid clatters on the floor, a consequence of his carelessness. “Galar’s a beautiful place, and people tend to forget that.”</p><p>Picking up the lid, Victor sets it beside the pot on the stovetop. “Not that I blame them. The cities aren’t shabby either.” Another frown before Victor continues, “Spicy or sweet? There’s not enough berries for anything else.”</p><p>“Spicy. I don’t like sweet curry.”</p><p>“Good choice.” Victor nods appreciatively. “I don’t care for sweet curry either.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Elderberry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This story is actually a little over 20k words tbh...I'm working on my bonus scenes for this story rn though...they'll go in the Series rather than as a chapter on this story.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s hard. It’s really hard.</p><p>It isn’t that Leon had expected something entirely easy—why would Victor expect him to have a late start then?—but he hadn’t expected a workload akin to his brother’s during his final years at university.</p><p>There isn’t a time limit to everything. Victor’s rather lenient when it comes to that. He doesn’t give a set number of chapters or pages to read or a curriculum to follow instead simply urging him to go at his own pace and interest. Rather, it is the material itself and the density of it that causes issues.</p><p>PDFs concerning the natural habitats and migratory patterns of Galar’s Pokémon, digital copies of textbooks written by the more renowned researchers like Oak and Rowan to the lesser known like Krane and Ivy, and pages upon pages of information about species care, capture, and an assortment of other topics.</p><p>He doesn’t understand half of the words that the writers use or a majority of their theorems and writings, and it eats away further at his time, requires him to take detours to research simpler explanations—each forum post, video, and link haphazardly gathered and bookmarked. Certainly, Victor's annotations make everything somewhat easier, but it isn't enough.</p><p>Even then, he isn’t always right nor does he understand everything. The numerous corrections from Victor, always given in a mild, almost bland sort of tone and always given from memory, are proof enough of that. They aren’t condescending—Victor is rather matter-of-fact in his explanations, neither snide nor mocking—but they, alongside his worsening sleep schedule, frustrate him still.</p><p>He doesn’t mind learning, but he isn’t used to being incorrect to this degree. He isn’t used to struggling.</p><p>Certainly, he could ask his brother for help—some of the texts are Hop’s as well even—but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to depend excessively on his brother nor does he want to answer the questions that would ensue.</p><p>He doesn’t want to explain his reasoning for wanting a starter from someone else, and he knows they would inevitably reach that issue.</p><p>He would have to explain one day—next year perhaps—but he doesn’t want to do it now.</p><p>But still, not every work that Victor sends is difficult, and Leon finds himself drawn to those, both because of interest and because of a need to assuage his own wounded ego.</p><p>Books concerning old superstitions and rumors about various Pokémon such as Spinarak, Applin, and Roserade and locations ranging from the Whirl Islands to Relic Forest to Fiore Temple. There isn’t a set pattern or theme to these texts outside of their shared focus on superstition, not anything that Leon could discern anyhow.</p><p>Furthermore, they aren’t particularly difficult when compared to Victor’s other texts—most of them are even written in layman’s terms and widely available rather than locked away behind paywalls and database accounts—and that makes it stranger, makes him curious.</p><p>And thus, Leon finds himself asking Victor about it during one of their video chats months later.</p><p>Victor isn’t particularly perturbed when he asks. He only leans forward, chin resting on the palm of his hand and elbow resting upon the wood of his desk.</p><p>“What do you think about them?” Victor asks, tone mild as always.</p><p>“They’re interesting, but...” Leon trails off before continuing, “I don’t see the point of reading them with everything else. Some of it seems kinda phony.”</p><p>Victor nods at that. “Some of it is bullcr-claptrap, unfactual, but it’s entertaining, right?” Victor frowns, tilting his head slightly. “A lot of people just want things to be entertaining nowadays.”</p><p>Leon still doesn’t quite understand Victor’s reasoning. “So? What’s the point of me reading all this then? I mean, I don’t mind. I just don’t see the point in it when everything else is nonfiction and academia.”</p><p>He does mind—he doesn’t want to waste time—but he wouldn’t tell Victor that.</p><p>“Do you know why most Trainers only carry two, maybe four Pokémon at best? Even most Ace Trainers only carry five at most. Or why most Trainers specialize in one or two types or perhaps only use Pokémon from their area?”</p><p>It’s an easy question, one that Leon answers immediately. “Utility, availability of resources, and costs.” He knows that by heart. It is one of the first lessons that he learned in Trainer School after all, and it’s easy enough to infer anyhow. “Some types are harder and more expensive to raise.”</p><p>Victor hums at that. “Correct, but there’s more to it. Fear and unfamiliarity also play parts in it.” He leans back slightly. “Do you ever notice how some types are less prevalent in some regions? Less type specialists or even simply less presence on the average team? Certainly, the environment plays a part in it—Sinnoh doesn’t exactly have many native Fire-types because of their climate for example—but so does funding. Most regions don’t have a gym for every type after all.”</p><p>It’s all rather obvious in Leon’s opinion, and he doesn’t really understand Victor’s point, but thankfully, Victor continues, “Galar’s lucky in the sense that we host a gym of every type. Hell, our major division features three of the least common specializations—Fairy, Ghost, and Dark.”</p><p>“So?” Leon still doesn’t quite get it.</p><p>“So”—Victor’s voice is still even—”we have multiple people, public figures and celebrities, willing to correct misinformation. Most people don’t like to listen unless it’s to someone they admire.” He leans forward and taps the screen, and Leon’s screen changes to that of Victor’s—an overview of his Pokédex, hundreds of entries rapidly scrolling downward and each marked as registered. “Pokédexes and smartphones weren’t common ten or so years ago. The former still isn’t, not unless you want to pay thousands upon thousands of dollars per regional dex or unless you personally know a professor, and the latter is still filled with misinformation. You saw that from your research, right?”</p><p>Leon flushes at that, but he nods, realization slowly setting in.</p><p>Leon hears another tap, and the screen returns to Victor’s face. “And those books I gave you? The ones about the superstitions? They’re all bestsellers with thousands or even millions of copies sold. Do you understand what I’m saying?”</p><p>Victor doesn’t wait for a response. “Misinformation is abundant when it comes to these creatures. Cost and necessity certainly play a part in it, but fear does as well. Do you think the average youngster who grew up in Slateport instead of Lilycove would be willing to add a Ghost type to their team? They haven’t had any experience with them, and there’s too many conflicting reports online and even with some library books about them. Even with her status in Hoenn, Phoebe can only do so much as one person.”</p><p>“So, I shouldn’t be afraid of them?”</p><p>Victor shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be <em>careless</em>. It’ll hurt both you and the Pokémon. Some of it like the Shedinja rumors for example are complete garbage—all Allister’s does is putter around his house and break his lamps, no soul-stealing at all—but it’s something that people <em>believe</em>. It’s hard to dispel fear once it sets in.”</p><p>He leans back in his chair and plucks a Luxury Ball from his belt before gently tossing it upward, soft, white light and shimmer soon dissipating on the table to reveal a Deino, inquisitive and overly curious.</p><p>“It’s not feeding time yet, and Piers is asleep. He can’t play with you,” Victor mutters to it, words soft as he gently pats her head, careful as to avoid the horn. Withdrawing his hand, he turns to look at Leon. “And some rumors like with the Deino line are absolutely true. Unless properly trained, they’ll eat anything they can get their teeth around, Trainer and teammates included.”</p><p>“Why have me read all of this then? The superstition stuff?” Leon asks. “Couldn’t you just tell me? I know they’re not toys. You’ve already told me this all the first time. Couldn’t I just focus on everything else instead of the misinformation?”</p><p>“No.” Another shake of his head. “The point I’m trying to make is that you <em>need </em>to be critical of everything. Some of that information you found would have killed you or severely injured your partners.” Victor taps the screen again though it doesn’t change this time. “Don’t listen to everything you find online or what you hear from others, even if it sounds reasonable. The average person is working off hearsay or superstition. It’s part of why unspecialized Trainers—the really successful ones like Green—are so rare. You need to know how to handle your team and juggle their needs with one another.”</p><p>“I get that.” Leon doesn’t mean to sound frustrated, but really, Victor’s concerns seem more like roundabout busywork than anything else. “But wouldn’t it be better just to tell me rather than send me all this extra work?”</p><p>“Would you have listened though?” Leon doesn’t reply to that. “It’s not extra work by the way. You need to understand the baseline of what everyone else knows. People aren’t”—Victor makes a motion with his hand, gently shooing Deino away from the screen—”good. They like being right no matter what, and it’s not helped by the superstition floating about.”</p><p>There is a hint of bitterness in Victor’s voice, but Leon doesn’t comment on it. With how dark his eyes are—irises pooled like dirty rainwater in a vase—he doesn’t want to.</p><p>“But still,” Leon argues, voice wavering slightly. “How does that teach me anything? If I learn from textbooks and all that, wouldn’t I know how to care for my Pokémon?”</p><p>Victor doesn’t reply at first, and Leon almost expects the call to end, but it doesn’t.</p><p>“Do you think wild Pokémon are the only ones you need to worry about on your journey?” he asks after a few more moments of tense silence.</p><p>Leon shakes his head. “No, there’s thieves and poachers too, right? I won’t be careless about that.”</p><p>Deino almost butts the screen before Victor picks her up, soon gently setting her down on the floor.</p><p>“That’s not what I mean. People have...preconceptions about certain things, and you need to be prepared for it.” Victor pauses for a moment, eyes darkening further and turning elsewhere, before he mutters, near-quiet, “No, you come from a good family. They wouldn’t have told you.” His eyes turn back to the screen, voice returning to its normal volume. “People used to think a lot of things about...certain types. Some of the prejudice is still there.”</p><p>“Oh.” It’s a bit of a weak reply, but he doesn’t know what else to say. He understands the implications well enough. “I still think I’ll be able to take care of myself and my Pokémon though. I won’t be careless.”</p><p>Victor frowns then before he sighs, eyes softening and akin to mud. “Fine, let’s move to a different subject then. We aren’t going to come to an agreement tonight.” Victor shifts in his chair, leaning forward once more. “Did you go over any other sections? Any questions on anything?”</p><p>Leon opens his mouth, pausing, before nodding. “I do. I don’t get what Colress is trying to say. I mean, I get the bonds part, but it’s everything after—the stuff where he references Sycamore, Krane, and Hastings. What do Capture Stylers have to with Mega Evolution and purification? Purification of what?”</p><p>“Did you read the newspaper scans first? The ones I included in the folder for that?” Victor’s frown deepens when Leon shakes his head. “You need to read them first to understand what events Colress is referencing and how it relates to his paper. It’s more speculation and comparison than anything else, but you have to understand what happened in Orre a decade ago to know what he’s talking about.”</p><p>Victor winces slightly before he leans down and picks up his Deino. “Why don’t you read them while I get Deino something to eat? We can talk about it more when I get back. She’s nibbling on my shoes now.”</p><p>Much like before, Victor doesn’t wait for a reply, already out of his chair and moving toward the door.</p><p>Leon couldn’t quite object. Victor isn’t even in the room anymore. He only frowns, irritated, before he reaches over and retrieves his laptop from his bed.</p><p>He doesn’t really want to read them—the text is old and faded and much less interesting than the folder’s accompanying videos, examples of Mega Evolution from Calem’s matches—but he has to.</p><p>He doesn’t want to be scolded by Victor or have his eyes, dark as they were, turned on him again.</p><p>He much prefers the brief softness of before.</p><p>At least then, Victor is memorable, more akin to a person than simply an imitation of one.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah...this is the Shield timeline considering Allister's a part of the major division instead of minor...I like to think he's also older to fit the age swap, and as a trade off, Bea's the younger one.</p><p>I'd also consider what Victor says and what "isn't" being said.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Peyote</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As the younger brother, Leon is expected to act in a certain way and take certain roles, life decided beforehand and choices based simply on his older brother's.</p><p>It isn't something that Leon particularly cares for, but perhaps he should have considering going to someone else for help instead of his brother's best friend.</p><p>It would have certainly saved him the trouble of everything now</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Victor's pretty hard on Leon, but I decided to go at it from the perspective of a prodigy since both he and Leon are canon ones. I think it's still fictionalized at points but that is part of my thought processes. I'll probably include an extra "chapter" of just author's notes like with my other longfics once this story finishes.</p><p>I also don't care for making so many updates per week, but it is (was?) the week of Pokemon's anniversary, so I made an exception.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite his odd mannerisms and fixations and his propensity for bouts of silence, Victor isn’t entirely unpleasant to talk to or be around. Rather, he’s simply quiet, usually preferring to listen rather than babble or interject and only occasionally humming to signify his continuing attention.</p><p>Outside of his explanations, Victor doesn’t speak much, doesn’t chatter or overwhelm the conversation—bounding from subject to subject with little rhyme or reason outside of personal interest and perhaps a naturally short attention span.</p><p>They aren’t lively, more melancholic or morose even, but they aren’t quite unpleasant either, lacking in that particular prickliness of a dwindling, dying conversation.</p><p>Instead they’re quiet, smoldering as a fireplace on winter morning rather than as the blaze of a bonfire.</p><p>They aren’t like the conversations he has with his brother, lively and cheerful and near-always ending in laughter or reconciliation as in the case of an argument.</p><p>Victor isn’t like his brother in most senses—they don’t even know each other all too well—but perhaps that is why he finds himself calling more often, more than their designated two calls per week, and staying up later, pass his own bedtime, to continue their chats.</p><p>Leon doesn’t think Victor minds too much anyhow. He answers his calls after all, same mild expression as always and sometimes upon a backdrop of white—his office—or wilderness rather than the dark shades of Spikemuth, and he never hurries him even when the digital clock in his room ticks pass three in the morning, red letters blinding in the near-darkness.</p><p>He doesn’t hate his brother, and his brother doesn’t hate him, doesn’t ignore him in any sense of the word, but he finds himself calling Victor anyway, curious and rambling and eventually moving beyond mere lessons—words bounding pass mere obligation and formality and to more personal matters: his worries, his fears, and his daily life among many other concerns.</p><p>Victor doesn’t replace his brother as a confidant, but there is a peculiar relief in speaking to someone who wouldn’t outwardly judge or interfere, who wouldn’t offer advice or attempt to help him in most circumstances. He would only listen.</p><p>He’s old enough at nine, nearly ten, to make his own decisions.</p><p>But still, Victor and his tendencies makes him curious, more so than before anyhow. Despite the increasing frequency of their conversations, Victor never speaks of himself. He only continues their lessons, correcting his mistakes and nodding along to whatever ramblings inevitably arise.</p><p>Leon isn’t used to silence, seeping inward like mildew, and it, alongside Victor’s actions and the rumors, perplexes him. Victor, despite his initial assumptions, isn’t a savant, proficient only in matters concerning Pokémon and lacking in nearly every other field.</p><p>Rather, he’s <em>normal</em>, overly so at times. Certainly, Victor has an affinity for Pokémon, a talent for both their care and training, but he isn’t <em>stupid</em>, dull-minded and slow in almost every other aspect.</p><p>He’s quiet of course—sullen and almost unapproachable in demeanor—but he isn’t dull.</p><p>His gaze is too focused for that, his speech too articulate and plainly elegant, and his movements too purposeful, lacking in that particular ungainliness.</p><p>He isn’t dumb, and thus, Leon couldn’t understand why he allows the rumors to circulate as they do.</p><p>Conjecture about his ability and state of mind, offhand remarks about possible favoritism and match rigging, and a plethora of other rumors, all considered acceptable chatter in most company and as a way to pass time on a lazy day.</p><p>In Galar, strength invites admiration, but peculiarity, oddness unexplained and accentuated by circumstances, draws ire and ridicule, overruling all else.</p><p>Scrutinization is, after all, a part of the show, the stage that all public figures must accept.</p><p>Still, he doesn’t understand it, couldn’t understand why his brother and Oleana allows it, not with what he knows of Victor now.</p><p>It isn’t that his brother encourages it. Hop’s too fiercely loyal and honest for that, always rebuking such statements before they could even finish, and Oleana, despite her dourness, isn’t one to encourage gossip for profit or for entertainment.</p><p>None of it quite makes sense. He doesn’t understand why they allow it, why Victor allows it when he’s everything <em>but</em> stupid.</p><p>He isn’t rude—his parents have taught him better than that—but he is curious by nature, overly so, and he finds the question burning upon his tongue, tinder set upon the smoldering fireplace and catching fire.</p><p>He doesn’t mean to, but he finds himself blurting it out during one of their nightly sessions, interrupting Victor mid-explanation.</p><p>“Why do you let people treat you that way?” It’s obtuse, vague and childishly phrased, and Leon, at Victor’s curious gaze, finds himself clarifying.</p><p>“I mean...” He doesn’t mean to pause, but he does. “Why don’t you correct them? The rumors I mean? You’re really smart, and I don’t get it.”</p><p>There is no rebuke then for his rudeness or even simply justification or denial. Victor only folds his hands on the table, right over left and slender fingers loosely spread, before leaning forward, expression still mild as if commenting upon the weather and not his own reputation, pariah in everything but name.</p><p>It isn’t quite human—the sight tilt of the head, the loose posture, and the blandness of the expression. Rather, it’s more akin to an imitation of one, actions accentuating the oddness that Victor is infamous for.</p><p>“I just don’t.”</p><p>A deceptively simple reply in form, no more than three words, but it does nothing but incite him further, confounds him further.</p><p>“But why?” Leon makes sure to keep his voice low, audible but not overly loud. He doesn’t want to wake his parents again like last time. “Some of the stuff people say is really awful. They think you’re stupid”—he wouldn’t use the other words, phrases rather; he has better manners than that—”and that you bribed your way up an—”</p><p>Victor interrupts him then, voice mild but firm. “But do you believe them?”</p><p>The implications of his words are clear enough even if Victor doesn’t outright state it, and Leon finds himself flushing even as he presses further.</p><p>“I-yes at first, but you’re not!” He shifts, jostling the sheets of his bed. “You’re not like what people say.” That isn’t entirely truthful—Victor is weird at times, but it isn’t an unbearable sort of strangeness—but he wouldn’t vocalize that particular train of thought. “You’re a lot smarter.” Another pause as Leon considers his words, cheeks flushing deeper at the implications. “I mean—sorry —it’s just...you’re not...weird or mean or anything. You’re...nice.”</p><p>Victor doesn’t respond, gaze and expression unchanging.</p><p>Leon continues, “I just don’t get why you don’t aim for well, <em>more</em>.” Leon shifts once more, fingers picking at the frayed hem of his pajama sleeve. “You’re smart enough, and you could get a credential from Hammerlocke University probably, for high scho—”</p><p>Shaking his head, Victor interrupts him sharply, “I won’t.”</p><p>“But <em>why</em>?” He doesn’t mean for his voice to rise, but thankfully, he doesn’t hear the telltale sound of his parents’ bedroom door opening. “People would respect you more if you finish university or even just high school. They wouldn’t call you a freak anymore an—”</p><p>Leon falters as Victor’s gaze darkens, mud hardening into clay.</p><p>“I don’t need their respect,” Victor says, frowning, and Leon feels his heart quicken, discomfort and thrill intermingling. He doesn’t like it when Victor looks at him like that, scrutinizing, but it, at the very least, something more than the mildness of before.</p><p>Victor shakes his head again, and Leon almost expects him to end the call then, but he doesn’t. Instead, Victor only interrupts him, holds up a hand as he opens his mouth for another question, words and sentiments repetitive as the ones before them.</p><p>“Can we return back the matter at hand?” Victor’s expression is mild, bland, once more, and Leon couldn’t quite help his disappointment at that. “We need to finish talking about Bugsy’s latest paper, and it’s already two.”</p><p>Victor doesn’t wait for his answer before continuing his explanation from earlier—some spiel about the differences among each region’s Pinsir population. He hadn’t paid much attention then, too distracted by his own curiosity. Though he couldn’t say that Victor’s answers had sated it in the least. Rather, he only finds his curiosity aroused, kindled further.</p><p>Too enigmatic, too obtuse, and just vague enough to raise more questions.</p><p>He wants to question Victor further, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to push his luck further with Victor, not with the air of finality that his statement had held. He doesn’t want Victor to end the call or perhaps worse, rescind his offer of a starter.</p><p>Thus, Leon finds himself only halfway listening to Victor’s explanation. Rude perhaps, but he couldn’t quite concentrate not with his thoughts racing as they are, kindling having been freshly added by Victor’s words and the lack thereof.</p><p>Despite the hour and the inherently dull nature of Victor’s explanation, Leon doesn’t doze off, not during and not even when the call ends and Victor bids him farewell, phone switching off and engulfing him in near-darkness—red clock letters flickering like the embers of a lit fireplace.</p><p>He couldn’t sleep afterwards either. How could he? He doesn’t understand Victor or his inclinations. Isn’t it natural to want to be seen as one’s most authentic self, to be revered and admired rather than scorned and ridiculed?</p><p>Victor’s reply, unlike the majority of his explanations, makes no sense, has no discernable sense.</p><p>It isn’t an answer that he could understand, and Leon finds himself restless, turning in his bed and readjusting his blankets.</p><p>Victor’s ideology—his answer—makes no sense, no human sense, but Victor has always been odd, foreign even, and this oddness is only accentuated by their relationship to one another, not quite strangers but not quite friends.</p><p>Victor isn’t like his brother—they’re too different for that—but Victor isn’t like most people either.</p><p>He isn’t even like most humans, too unsociable and too adverse to recognition.</p><p>And thus, Leon finds himself awake, pondering and restless, even as morning comes, light peeping through his window. He doesn’t come to an answer even when his mother knocks at his bedroom door, noise loud and voice concerned about his late rising, and when he answers her, easing her worries.</p><p>When he dozes off, the clock reads 8:41 a.m., time odd and uneven as his own thoughts and Victor’s own inclinations.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is very much a story dealing with the themes of perception and the perception of identity. I don't think everything should be taken at face value or brushed over. It's my field of choice naturally that plays a part in my writing inclinations, but I write with the idea that everything can be looked into more and there are differing themes at play.</p><p>I actually consider the explicit oneshot stories in this story's series to be "optional/bonus" scenes since while I have my own opinions on them and their "canon" status, they can be seen as standalones or as extra information on this story depending on preference. I just want my age swap AU fics in one place/series tbh.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Durian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As the younger brother, Leon is expected to act in a certain way and take certain roles, life decided beforehand and choices based simply on his older brother's.</p>
<p>It isn't something that Leon particularly cares for, but perhaps he should have considering going to someone else for help instead of his brother's best friend.</p>
<p>It would have certainly saved him the trouble of everything now.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Got my vaccine shot which makes me super happy though I guess that dates the story a lot...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, what’s with the recent interest in Victor?”</p>
<p>Leon jerks, eyes widening as he turns to face toward Hop. It isn’t a particularly aggressive statement, more idle curiosity meant to fill the time rather than anything else, but he hadn’t expected to be asked about it, not after dinner and not during his dishwashing. It’s his turn tonight to do the dishes after all.</p>
<p>Seated at their kitchen table, Hop nods to the dry washcloth on the nearby hook before he explains, “Mom checks the browsing history on the router and the call history. We’re on a family plan, you know?” He leans forward, hands resting on the kitchen table. “She asked me about it since she thought I’d put you up to it.”</p>
<p>“Put me up to what?” Leon asks as he rehangs the cloth on the hook. His hands aren’t entirely dry after wiping, but they’re good enough he thinks. He’d have to wet them again later anyway. The dishes aren’t done.</p>
<p>“You know”—Hop makes a motion with his hand—“talking to Victor. You’ve been chatting quite a bit with him.” He frowns lightly. “Really, I’m surprised he even talks to you as much as he does. He’s not…very friendly or sociable at times. Not anywhere near as bad as when we were kids, but he’s not very fond of new people most of the time.”</p>
<p>Hop isn’t particularly wrong about that. Despite the mildness Victor exhibits during most of their chats, Leon still remembers their first conversation.</p>
<p>But still, it doesn’t sit right with him to simply agree even if Hop’s statement is objectively correct.</p>
<p>“He’s nice,” Leon says. “He’s really patient when it comes to explaining things—like papers and stuff. We went through Bugsy’s latest paper last week. He’s really good at explaining too.”</p>
<p>There’s a flash of surprise in Hop’s eyes, but it disappears quickly enough. “Really? He’s teaching you?” At Leon’s incredulous expression, Hop clarifies, “It’s just surprising. Victor doesn’t tutor anyone outside of his Tower’s trainers. I’ve told him before he’d do good as a lecturer or a tutor or even as a professor, but he’s never listened before—won’t even consider UH’s proposition for a guest lecture.”</p>
<p>Leon couldn’t quite help the swell of pride he feels though curiosity soon replaces it. “Why not?”</p>
<p>He expects Hop to know—he and Victor are best friends after all—but Hop simply shrugs, head shaking slightly. “I don’t know. Victor can be pretty fickle at times.” Another shrug. “He’s hard to read at times even for me. Won’t explain it either.”</p>
<p>Hop shakes his head again. “Still, you haven’t answered my question yet. What’s with the interest and the tutoring? You know you can always ask me, Lee. I always have time for you.”</p>
<p>“I-I’m just interested in the rumors, you know? And he offered to tutor me afterwards.” It isn’t quite a fib—he is interested in that—but Leon feels a pang of guilt anyhow, feeling only accentuated further by Hop’s words, both previous and upcoming.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear about Victor,” Hop says, frowning. “Most of it isn’t true. It’s mostly slander. He wasn’t very popular during our Gym Challenge—a lot of old grudges and hearsay passed on as fact.”</p>
<p>“I know but…”</p>
<p>Really,” Hop interrupts. “Most of it isn’t true.”</p>
<p>Leon opens his mouth to speak—Hop’s insistence only makes him more curious rather than less—but Hop interrupts him once more.</p>
<p>“Victor isn’t a bad person like they say.” Hop pauses, trailing off. “He’s just…different when it comes to some things, not bad just different.”</p>
<p>An awkward silence descends then, and Leon shuffles slightly, a bit uncomfortable underneath Hop’s gaze and because of the wetness on his hands, sweat and dishwater both.</p>
<p>Hop speaks first. “Sorry, you probably already know that from your lessons with him, right? Don’t really need me explaining it. I’m just used to defending him.” Hop shifts in his chair. “Why don’t we move to a different subject? Your birthday’s in three months. Any preferences? Any Pokémon catch your eye?”</p>
<p>Hop isn’t especially subtle—too impatient as well considering that it’s only Leon’s tenth birthday—but he doesn’t need to be. To the best of Hop’s knowledge, he would be the one to give him his starter.</p>
<p>“I”—Leon pauses before shaking his head—”no, nothing.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to be shy about it. You wanted a Honedge or Axew right? Can’t give you those since they’re not suited for beginners, but there’s a ton of other good Pokémon like Eevee and Pikachu.”</p>
<p>Leon shakes his head again. ”No, really, I don’t want anything.”</p>
<p>“But don’t you want to have a bit of a head start? Sonia already has hers, and you’ve refused everything I’ve offered so far.” Hop frowns then, not quite disappointment or irritation in the truest sense. “Eevee isn’t a bad Pokémon at all. They’re pretty versatile and friendly to boot. They’re great for beginners, an—“</p>
<p>No,” Leon interrupts, voice rising slightly. It isn’t loud enough to draw their mother from the garden or to wake their father up from his nap in the living room, but it causes Hop to pause, eyebrow raising and motion causing Leon to shuffle uncomfortably once more.</p>
<p>He usually never interrupts his brother.</p>
<p>“I…” Leon hesitates. “I already asked someone else for a starter.”</p>
<p>Leon’s chest tightens when Hop’s eyes widen slightly, hurt apparent if momentary, but he doesn’t explain, not immediately anyhow. He only keeps his gaze on Hop.</p>
<p>When Hop speaks, his voice is even, neither angry nor overly upset. Instead, there is a cheeriness to it, akin to the one he remembers from their younger days, warm and comforting, yet not quite entirely like it. The faint crack—the hurt hidden in his eyes and swelling within in his chest—is apparent even without words or explicit acknowledge.</p>
<p>“Oh? Who’d you ask? Was it Professor Magnolia or maybe one of the neighbors?” The same evenness he remembers from childhood and the same humoring tone, not angry or completely disinterested—Hop is anything but disinterested—but not completely honest.</p>
<p>Leon hesitates again before speaking, “Ah, no.” Another pause, awkward and only prolonging everything—Hop’s gaze, the silence, and the tightening in his chest. “I asked Victor, and he said yes.”</p>
<p>“He did?”</p>
<p>“I mean, I didn’t think he’d agree. I did it as a joke, and he agreed and offered to tutor me too.”</p>
<p>It isn’t quite a lie—Leon hadn’t expected Victor to agree as easy as he had—but it isn’t quite truthful either, a lie by omission.</p>
<p>Another shuffle, awkward and nervous, and Leon almost expects Hop to acknowledge his lie—he knows Victor best after all—but he doesn’t. Instead, Hop’s eyes only soften after a few moments, and he nods.</p>
<p>“I’m glad Victor’s expanding his horizons. I’ve been telling him to make more friends.” Hop frowns slightly, still not truly angered. “Wish he didn’t pick now of all times though.” Hop shakes his head before looking at Leon. “Don’t worry about it though! I’m not disappointed. Well, I am a little bit, but I’m your brother, you know? Always thought I’d be giving you your starter.”</p>
<p>There’s still a faint trace of hurt in his eyes, and Leon feels another pang of guilt.</p>
<p>“Really,” Hop continues. “It’s fine. I’ll get you something else.”</p>
<p>He shifts, standing up from his chair and moving to stand by Leon and the sink.</p>
<p>Hop picks up a dish from the drying rack, turning it in his hand. “You need to clean these better though. Mom’s gonna get mad if you just rinse them like this. You have to use more soap.”</p>
<p>It’s a rather poor, rather obvious, attempt at diffusing the situation, but Leon appreciates it, nonetheless, even as he feels Hop pat his head with his free hand, eliciting another pang of guilt.</p>
<p>“Let me help you,” Hop says. “We can get through these sooner then.”</p>
<p>Another attempt to coddle him, but he doesn’t mind this time, not with the guilt he feels.</p>
<p>Leon only nods, uttering a singular “okay,” before he turns the faucet, noise deafening in the silence.</p>
<p>It’s too quiet tonight, lacking in the chatter he expects, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to speak.</p>
<p>He doesn’t know what to say, and he doesn’t think Hop knows either.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We're inching along...tbh I started this story because I wanted to have a longfic of each of Victor's pairings with Adult Trio. Though tbh, I prefer Piers by a large margin based on how I interpret Victor and him (and also aesthetics), but I am gonna do the Raihan one eventually...I actually have a portion of it done, but much like with this story, I got hit by a prose wall...</p>
<p>I also think it's important to look at what the characters say and don't say and how they act and the implications.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Honeydew</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As the younger brother, Leon is expected to act in a certain way and take certain roles, life decided beforehand and choices based simply on his older brother's.</p>
<p>It isn't something that Leon particularly cares for, but perhaps he should have considering going to someone else for help instead of his brother's best friend.</p>
<p>It would have certainly saved him the trouble of everything now.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy White Day! I actually did a story for White Day though I posted it yesterday so a bit early. It's trans!Piers/trans!Victor, and I was in a soft mood (still am), so it's fluffier than my usual stuff. Boobies and fluff...</p>
<p>Gotta wait until I get back into a frisky mood before I do Demon AU since that's super "Dead Dove: Do Not Eat."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>”Your voice is deeper today.”</p>
<p>Leon pauses, stopping mid-explanation. “Thank you?”</p>
<p>Really, what else could he say to that? Most people, outside of family and perhaps friends, wouldn’t comment on it—an occasional, lighthearted jibe perhaps but not the blasé, almost nonsensical tone he has come to expect from Victor.</p>
<p>“It’s only an observation,” Victor explains, chin resting upon his palm as he leans forward. Much like with a majority of their conversations, they’re once again seated in the near-dark, desk lamp casting shadows and moonlight peering inward through the blinds. “You’re gonna be ten next month, right? On the thirteenth?”</p>
<p>“Third,” Leon corrects. “My birthday’s on the third.”</p>
<p>“Ah, right. Hop’s been talking about it, but he never gave a date—too excited. I think he forgets that I don’t actually know when your birthday is. I don’t spend enough time in Postwick for that,” Victor says. “Less than a month away then.”</p>
<p>“Mm-hmm.” Leon almost expects Victor to make a motion for him to resume his explanation, but he doesn’t. Instead, Victor only continues, voice even if a bit distracted.</p>
<p>“You’re ‘bout two years older than Piers then. His birthday’s a few months after yours.” Leon feels a bit of annoyance at that, odd but not entirely unexplainable. Why wouldn’t he? Even with Victor’s focus on their lessons, his increasing, if glacially paced, friendliness, and their now near-nightly conversations together, Victor couldn’t quite help but mention Piers—bits and pieces about their day together, tidbits about his hobbies and interests, and so forth.</p>
<p>Hell, he knows more about Piers because of Victor than Victor himself.</p>
<p>He hasn’t even seen the other boy yet—<em>too shy and quiet, a bit of a crybaby</em> according to Victor or absence explained as a consequence of bedtime—but he knows of him well enough from Victor’s frequent musings and from Marnie’s interviews and from the rumors floating about, words bobbing upon saliva and tongue like fishing lures upon waves.</p>
<p>He doesn’t dislike Piers—he hasn’t even seen him outside of pictures—but he is rather curious.</p>
<p>“Why do you always talk about him?”</p>
<p>“Who?” Victor’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Piers? I told you. I watch over him whenever Marnie’s busy. It would be a bit weird if I didn’t mention him.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” He doesn’t mean to be curt, but it happens anyway. “But you almost always talk about him, even when you’re not in Spikemuth. I haven’t even seen him yet.”</p>
<p>“He likes to keep to himself,” Victor says, not particularly perturbed. “He’s not very good with people outside of his music recitals, you know?” Leon doesn’t, but Victor continues anyway, “I’m hoping that he’ll grow out of it once he sets off. Marnie thinks he will—she’s the one pushing for it after all—but I don’t know. He’s a good kid but not really…open like you are. He has his Zigzagoon and Scraggy, but people aren’t his strong suit. Too shy.”</p>
<p>Victor frowns then and leans back in his chair, wood creaking with the motion. “Don’t really need to be a people person to be a good Trainer, but it helps with the social aspects.” He shakes his head, frowning still. “Still, we got a bit off-track, right? We’re supposed to be talking about your birthday. Anything you want in particular? A pack of Luxury Balls or perhaps some Safari Balls? I got some while visiting Mr. Mustard.”</p>
<p>Leon shakes his head, brow furrowing and uncomfortable tightness forming in his chest—irritation. Certainly, he shouldn’t feel as he does—even he knows how entitled it would be to expect a more grandiose gift from Victor—but he couldn’t quite rid himself of it. Rather he only it increasing steadily with each passing moment and with each of Victor’s words, blasé and almost flippant.</p>
<p>“No? What else would you like then? An Escape Rope? Some Max Repels or a Focus Sash? Don’t really know what most kids like nowadays, and you don’t seem to be someone who’d care for Pokémon cards.” Another frown. “It’s easy enough with him. All Piers wants are replacement strings an—”</p>
<p>Leon shakes his head again, more vigorous than the motion of before, and Victor stops, head tilting slightly.</p>
<p>“I…” He needs to say something, anything. It’s too awkward otherwise. “I want to see a battle, one of yours I mean.”</p>
<p>“There’s some available online. I know my first title defense is a popular one.”</p>
<p>“No, I mean…I want to see one of your matches live at my birthday,” Leon says. “You don’t allow cameras in the Battle Tower most of the time, and you don’t do exhibition matches.”</p>
<p>It isn’t a lie made up solely as a conversation filler—he is curious, rightfully so—but he finds himself shifting anyway, nervousness only accentuated by the way Victor looks at him, impassive yet scrutinizing.</p>
<p>Leon almost speaks again, but Victor interrupts him before he can, mildness tinged by a peculiar sharpness, more curious than angry and only noticed because of their time together. It isn’t quite like the passiveness that he keenly knows.</p>
<p>“Did Hop put you up to this?” Victor asks finally. “He knows that I don’t want it.”</p>
<p>“Want what?” He couldn’t quite help the words that slip out of his mouth, not with what he remembers from his conversation with Hop and with what he knows of Victor, rumors and truth mixing.</p>
<p>“So no then.” Victor’s lips thin, and Leon feels a twinge of irritation. “He would have told you already.”</p>
<p>“Told me what? You haven’t answered my ques—“</p>
<p>Victor interrupts, shaking his head and voice a bit too hurried, words slurring in their haste, “It’s not anything particularly important—just adult matters—but still, a match? It wouldn’t be all too interesting to watch me battle. I’m not too flashy. And with who? Wouldn’t it be better to ask for something else?”</p>
<p>“No.” He couldn’t quite help the irritation that seeps into his voice. “I want to see one of your battles, and you know Hop would agree to it. You’re his rival.”</p>
<p>“I’m not really interesting though. Do you really want to see that? See me lose again? Wouldn’t something else be bet—“</p>
<p>Leon shakes his head. “I want to watch one of your battles.”</p>
<p>It’s petulant—overly so in the slight whine of his own voice, in the way his nails dig into his palms, and the familiar prickling of tears, formed yet not quite falling—and unreasonable, but he doesn’t rescind his words.</p>
<p>He only clenches his teeth, eyes looking forward and meeting Victor’s gaze even as he feels tears wet the corner of his eyes.</p>
<p>He isn’t used to being ignored or denied.</p>
<p>“Fine,” Victor says after a few moments of silence. His voice isn’t quite as sharp as before, softening just the barest amount. Victor isn’t particularly good with kids in his opinion—too sharp and too quick to correct. It isn’t anything like the conversations with his brother.</p>
<p>But that isn’t surprising. It shouldn’t be surprising.</p>
<p>Victor isn’t his brother after all.</p>
<p>After a pause, long and winding despite the factual brevity of it, Victor continues, still frowning, “Just don’t tell anyone about it, not even your brother.” Victor cuts him off before his question could come. “He won’t mind if it’s impromptu. He’ll probably prefer it honestly. He’s never been patient. Don’t think he could wait another month if he knew.”</p>
<p>Victor shakes his head then, frown deepening. “I…I can’t stay the entire time though. I’m busy with work, you know? And it’s a Tuesday, right? I’m supposed to watch Piers on Tuesday, and he’s a bit shy—probably wouldn’t enjoy coming. What time does it end? I can come then.”</p>
<p>At the mention of Piers, Leon feels a pang of annoyance. He doesn’t understand Victor’s concerns—it’s his birthday after all, and one of the best ways to overcome social anxiety is to to meet more people—and he certainly doesn’t understand the flippancy of everything.</p>
<p>Most people would know that arriving at a party’s end is a social faux pas, but Victor isn’t most people.</p>
<p>He shouldn’t lie—his parents have raised him better than that—but he finds himself pausing, words fumbling and sinking upon his tongue like a bobber.</p>
<p>But still, he doesn’t think there would be any harm—it’s just a half hour after all—and thus, he bends the truth, words pulled like the limbs of a tree during a storm.</p>
<p>“It ends at half pass six,” Leon says before he adds, “I think. They haven’t decided on an exact time.”</p>
<p>That’s a lie of course. His birthday parties  always end at seven at night near exactly, stragglers leaving then and parents and brother beginning clean-up.</p>
<p>He almost expects Victor to call him out on his lie—he certainly looks guilty enough—but he doesn’t. Victor only nods, voice humming lightly.</p>
<p>“Alright,” Victor replies, “I’ll meet you ‘round that time then. Now, do you wanna get back to our lesson? We have ‘bout half an hour left.”</p>
<p>He shouldn’t be disappointed, but he is. Victor, despite his conversations with his brother, doesn’t question something as simple as the time.</p>
<p>Though, Leon doesn’t bring it up. That would be counterproductive.</p>
<p>Instead, he only nods, pushing down the bit of disappointment he feels, lure sinking.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Leon lies a lot, doesn't he? He's been doing it for the entire story ever since the first chapter. A bit avoidant too isn't he? I think Leon and Piers are foils just as Leon and Victor are.</p>
<p>For Leon, I actually considered his motivations in comparison to canon!Hop as well alongside what we see of canon!Leon in the games. Leon doesn't seem like a person who'd want to be ignored or taken as "second-best" and combine that with the family situation that's implied here, there's a lot of issues going on.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Lychee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As the younger brother, Leon is expected to act in a certain way and take certain roles, life decided beforehand and choices based simply on his older brother's.</p><p>It isn't something that Leon particularly cares for, but perhaps he should have considering going to someone else for help instead of his brother's best friend.</p><p>It would have certainly saved him the trouble of everything now.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I got so many doujins this week...Victor-focused mostly but some HPNZ as well and DNKB. Super happy even if my wallet is crying...I still gotta pick up the WTKB one once mail order starts...fudanshi sorrows...same with the HPMSDN one if restocks happen...I'm getting most of them scanned and sent to me, but oof...prices are still high...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He doesn’t think much of it after the first night, sleep burying worries and daily concerns hindering their emergence—snow upon earth.</p><p>Victor doesn’t mention it either. Much to his annoyance, he’s still more concerned about Piers, conversations seemingly always straying to him and voice tinged by a peculiar care and interest. It isn’t quite like their own conversations, Victor listening and nodding along, occasionally interjecting, yet eyes lacking that particular glint of enthusiasm.</p><p>It’s work and obligation rather than anything truly resembling love, platonic or otherwise.</p><p>Leon doesn’t like it naturally—who would?—and he does comment on it, words broaching like the soft flutter of a butterfly’s wings rather than a falcon’s.</p><p>He tries to be discreet, and thankfully, Victor doesn’t comment on the way his words curl, endings stilted and frayed in annoyance, but he doesn’t relent. He doesn’t take the bait, lure still afloat.</p><p>He only continues their lessons, serious as always, and conversations often drifting to Piers in one manner or another.</p><p>What he likes to eat, his Pokémon—he doesn’t know how Piers could stand the commonness of his Zigzagoon, forms, more pests to the average Trainer than something to be coveted, frequently seen throughout Galar—his music recitals, and even to their time together.</p><p>Really, how many instruments could one boy play?</p><p>Guitar, violin, piano, among a roomful of others. He even knows how to play the damn trombone.</p><p>Apparently a good singer as well despite his young age.</p><p>In his opinion, Piers isn’t good match for Victor—he seems to be more of a musical genius than someone interested in battling—but he doesn’t voice his opinion.</p><p>He doesn’t think Victor would appreciate it all too much, not with the obvious affection in his voice whenever the subject draws to him.</p><p>Nonetheless, he doesn’t mention it and he doesn’t explicitly mention his birthday, day drawing closer with the hours.</p><p>Victor doesn’t mention it either. Even on the night before, Victor doesn’t ask, conversations focused more on their lessons and head always nodding along to whatever topic Leon deigns to speak on.</p><p>Victor doesn’t call on the morning when his birthday arrives either and even as the clock ticks to noon and then to evening.</p><p>Half pass six in the evening.</p><p>That had been the time that he had given Victor.</p><p>Yet, even as the minutes on his phone tick away—zero to one to thirty and pass, white lines forming forty-five—Victor doesn’t show.</p><p>He hadn’t even called or text—Leon couldn’t help the disappointment, bitter taste bubbling in his throat like cough syrup—or even simply answered his calls and text. Leon had made plenty of those during the minutes he could get away, friends left outside alongside family for the bathroom.</p><p>He hadn’t expected much. Well, he <em>shouldn’t</em> have expected much.</p><p>Victor is busy after all. He isn’t his brother either, always eager to make time for him.</p><p>Lost in his own thoughts and seated at the dining room’s table, he doesn’t notice the knocking on the door or the squeal of his brother’s chair, seat pulled out and Hop soon heading for the door.</p><p>He doesn’t notice, not until he hears a clatter from the kitchen, noise soon followed by Miss Eliza’s and Victor’s voices, each rising in volume with every passing moment.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>He hadn’t meant to forget about her, but he hadn’t thought that it would be an issue.</p><p>Miss Eliza is Victor’s mother after all.</p><p>Furthermore, it isn’t like she doesn’t talk about him frequently, words often arriving with a familial fondness and a wisp of melancholy.</p><p>He hadn’t understood the reason for that—there are enough pictures of her and Victor framed around her house, and she talks candidly enough him, childhood frequently mentioned—but he doesn’t under the reason for the shouting either.</p><p><em>Wasted potential</em>, <em>antisocial shut-in,</em> and a number of other phrases—he’s never heard Ms. Eliza use any of them before—but he’s never heard Victor truly lose his temper before either, words crasser than his mother’s but no less heated.</p><p>And he especially doesn’t understand why Victor soon storms out afterwards, door closing with a light <em>thunk</em> before its hinge creaks once more, Hop quickly following after and door loudly slamming shut after him.</p><p>He shouldn’t follow after them—he doesn’t think his mother or Miss Eliza would like the added stress of a missing child, not with the way their voices sound right now, one shrill and near-inconsolable and the other tight and concerned—but he finds his body moving anyway, chair legs squeaking upon the wooden floor.</p><p>He has always been a willful child after all, always used to getting his way and to sating his curiosity.</p><p>At the very least, neither his mother or Miss Eliza stop him from leaving. They’re too busy for that.</p><p>He doesn’t quite know exactly where to go when the door closes behind him, but he doesn’t need to.</p><p>Postwick isn’t a big town after all—Hop and Victor couldn’t have gone all too far—and he isn’t deaf.</p><p>He could hear them well enough from his spot on the porch, voices distant and faintly audible alongside the whistling of the leaves of their front yard’s tree, wooden swing swaying beneath the winding branches.</p><p>Though with each step, foot moving one in front of the other and rubber soles meeting cobblestone and finally forest soil, there’s a peculiar apprehension rising within his chest, warm and hot, feeling drawing perspiration despite the chilliness of the night and not particularly helped by the gloom.</p><p>He doesn’t understand the reason for it—he knows these roads, and with the stars and lampposts, Postwick is lit well enough. Furthermore, he’s never been scared of the dark, Dubwool-themed nightlight used more for practicality rather than because of fear.</p><p>Nonetheless, with each step, he feels his dread grow even as Victor’s and Hop’s voices become clearer, both agitated, argumentative, lacking in their normal camaraderie, and soon joined by the by the roars of their Pokémon, capsules having burst and familiar, white lights dissipated to reveal a Rillaboom and Heatmor.</p><p>He shouldn’t be nervous as he is when he reaches the clearing—he isn’t in the deeper recesses of the Slumbering Weald, and he can see both his brother and Victor after all, albeit forms slightly smudged like grease on a photo because of the fog—but he is.</p><p>It isn’t warranted. He’s seen enough of his brother’s matches to understand how brilliant he is, and he’s heard enough stories from their parents about his exploits—Zacian befriended and Galar saved from the Darkest Day over a decade ago.</p><p>But still, he’s heard enough stories about Victor as well. Most are mocking, cajoling, words veiled in disdain and ridicule, but there’s always a slight edge to everything, especially from the ones who have battled him, anger and hurt pride apparent.</p><p><em>Fucking freak</em>. <em>Lame retard</em>. <em>Animal fucker</em>.</p><p>He’s heard a number of names used to describe Victor, most his mother would chastise him for if they were to ever leave his lips in her company, and he’s never disputed them before.</p><p>Why would he have then? He hadn’t known Victor nor had he had a reason to interject more keen on keeping peace than anything else.</p><p>He hadn’t known Victor then, but he doesn’t really know him now either.</p><p>He doesn’t expect Victor to win—Heatmor has a type advantage, and he’s seen their showings—but he does.</p><p>Rather easily as well, Rillaboom explosively fast despite his hulking stature—Grassy Glide covering distance on the faintly glowing terrain and followed by High Horsepower, wooden tree trunk slammed onto the back of Heatmor’s skull for a quick knockout.</p><p>He hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly hadn’t been that or the minutes after.</p><p>Cramorant easily taken down despite his mobility, Pincurchin unable to change the flow of the battle even with her ability, every single Pokémon taken out without so much as a new switch-in.</p><p>No Obstagoon with his gaudy pink fur, no Sylveon or Talonflame, and not even Victor’s own Corviknight.</p><p>He knows Victor has a number of different choices. As a consequence of his position as the Battle Tower’s head and because of his own preferences for unpredictability, he never quite had a set team outside of Rillaboom.</p><p>Nonetheless, he doesn’t see any if them.</p><p>Only Rillaboom, ape still standing in front of Victor even as Hop recalls his own unconscious Dubwool, sphere soon shrunk and tucked into his belt.</p><p>“Why don’t you just take it?” Hop asks, voice tense. “You’ve always been better at this than me.”</p><p>“Because I don’t want it,” Victor replies, frowning.</p><p>“But <em>why</em>?” Hop shakes his head then. “You’re good at it—more than good even.”</p><p>“Because I don’t.”</p><p>He doesn’t understand the reason for their conversation. No, that’s a lie. He’s heard the rumors for years, seen it for himself just then, but he doesn’t need to understand.</p><p>Not when he feels a crunch underneath his feet, a fallen twig as it were, and sees Victor and Hop turn toward him, expressions a mirror of one another, eyes widened in surprise.</p><p>“I-I…” Hop begins, “Lee…just…aren’t you supposed to be back home with mom? She doesn’t like you going out after dark. You’re pretty bad with directions, you know?”</p><p>It’s a clumsy attempt to lighten the mood—he couldn’t even bring himself to feign a smile—but it isn’t unexpected.</p><p>Hop has never liked to disappoint anyone after all and especially not him.</p><p>A pause descends then, silence awkward and Interspersed with the sound of crickets, grass rustling lightly underneath their weight, and the occasional owl’s hoot. He almost wishes that they could speak, interrupt as participants rather than as mere spectators. It would be better than the awkwardness of now, he fidgeting underneath their gaze and quiet deafening in its presence.</p><p>“We can talk about everything later,” Victor says after a few moments as Rillaboom disappears in a burst of light, being recalled into his Poké Ball.</p><p>Without a pause, Victor moves, hand reaching forward to grasp at his and tugging, urging him to follow after and voice soon calling for Hop.</p><p>Tight and with the callouses differing, Victor’s grip isn’t like his brother’s. It’s too rough to be his, force not enough to hurt yet lacking in that particular gentleness that comes with brotherhood.</p><p>Furthermore, the fingers are too slender, more akin to a woman’s than a man’s, and the hand too small, nails neatly trimmed and manicured unlike his brother’s worn ones, edges bitten down to the nub or broken because of daily wear.</p><p>Victor isn’t like his brother in most aspects. He isn’t even like most people, too withdrawn and perhaps even overly awkward at times.</p><p>He doesn’t turn even as he feels his brother’s gaze on his back, questioning and concerned.</p><p>Though, Hop doesn’t speak, and in return, Leon doesn’t turn to face him.</p><p>It isn’t like their normal routine.</p><p>It’s only when the door closes behind him and Hop—Victor had deigned to leave earlier, Talonflame summoned and mounted the moment that they had reached the front gates of his home—that his brother speaks.</p><p>“So...I wasn’t really expecting Victor to show up.” A strained laugh comes then as Hop rubs the back of his head with his palm, an old nervous habit. “He has a lot of issues with his mom, you know? Part of the reason why he’s rarely here.” Hop frowns then. “I mean I’m glad he’s here—don’t get me wrong—but Victor can be…moody. Bit hard to get along with for most people too.”</p><p>Leon doesn’t reply, and Hop places a hand on his head, ruffling his hair.</p><p>“What’d he want to talk about anyway?” Hop doesn’t stop ruffling his hair even as Leon flinches, movement slight. “I’m glad Victor’s making more friends, but…he’s never been this secretive.”</p><p>After a few moments of silence, Hop continues, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. I’m just curious. He’s never really shown any interest in Postwick. Heck, I couldn’t even get him to come for <em>my</em> birthday last year.”</p><p> Hop shakes his head before peering down at Leon. Unlike Leon, his bangs are neatly trimmed rather than layered. It isn’t something that their mother particularly likes—his bangs are too unruly in his mother’s opinion—but it had been his choice.</p><p>He hadn’t wanted to look too much like his brother. They already share enough features after all—the same aquiline nose, the same shade of hair color, and even the same eyelashes, darkly framing a similarly gold hue.</p><p>It’s in the little things that they differed, but it isn’t quite enough in his opinion. He’s too recognizable as Hop’s younger brother.</p><p>Leon feels Hop pat his head once more before his hand lifts from his hair.</p><p>“I don’t think mom’s home right now,” Hop says. “She’s probably out with Ms. Eliza somewhere. They’re best friends, you know? Kinda like me and Victor.”</p><p>Another frown comes then, quick and slight and fleeting and only noticeable because of their familiarity with one another. Leon doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t understand much about them either.</p><p>Nothing that matters anyhow.</p><p>Hop makes his way to kitchen, calling over his shoulder as he does. “I can cut you another slice of cake if you want. It’s still fresh, and you always sneak in here after midnight for a piece anyway. What do you say?”</p><p>Awkward and a bit strained, but Leon doesn’t comment on it nor does he mention the events of earlier.</p><p>It isn’t for a lack of curiosity—he has plenty of that—but for a discomfort, feeling caught in his throat and smothering his questions like a snow upon earth.</p><p>He doesn’t know his brother as much as he had thought he had.</p><p>Thus, he only finds himself muttering a simple <em>alright</em> before he moves, following after Hop into the kitchen.</p><p>He isn’t quite sure if Hop had heard him, but he doesn’t need to repeat himself.</p><p>His footsteps are a loud enough answer after all.</p><p>Younger following after older.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm speedrunning a fic for Easter right now, and it's like...oh I am feeling the pressure...I'm halfway done, and it's a shorter fic but gosh...</p><p>It's Leon/Victor/Raihan, so I'll finally have a complete combo set for Adult Trio!Victor (well excluding the 4P anyway)...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Pear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As the younger brother, Leon is expected to act in a certain way and take certain roles, life decided beforehand and choices based simply on his older brother's.</p><p>It isn't something that Leon particularly cares for, but perhaps he should have considering going to someone else for help instead of his brother's best friend.</p><p>It would have certainly saved him the trouble of everything now.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not dead or anything. I'm just busy with real life, and I got addicted to FFXIV...it's been three days and I have two classes at lv. 30+...still writing fanfic but I also want more time playing games, you know? I'm on Primal too...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, why’d you lie?” Victor asks,  voice softer than normal and eyes peering at him. Unlike their other meetings, Victor isn’t situated in the guest room—desk, wallpaper, and room decorations entirely familiar in their beiges and whites. Rather, he’s seated on a bed, legs loosely crossed and body hunched slightly forward.</p><p>It’s a rather relaxed position considering their current conversation, but he doesn’t really expect anything else from him, not with the time they’ve spent together. At the very least, Victor isn’t angry, visibly so anyhow. There’s the frown certainly but nothing else that could truly constitute the beginning of a cut correspondence.</p><p>Though, despite Victor’s earlier promise of speaking with him, he hadn’t been the first to call. Heck, he hadn’t called at all, days turning into weeks. He’s never missed days before, lessons skipped in favor of his anxieties.</p><p>But still, he couldn’t quite leave it as it is, and as Hop says, Victor rarely returns to Postwick. He couldn’t keep postponing everything. He’s too curious for that, and furthermore, he has never been a quitter—too stubborn.</p><p> Thus, Leon had been the first to call, number hesitantly dialed by slightly trembling fingers.</p><p>He hadn’t known what to expect with Victor, but it, that conversation, would be better than the uncertainty of before.</p><p>“I…” He doesn’t mean for his voice to crack then, high-pitched and a bit too loud, but Victor interrupts before he can continue.</p><p>“Not so loud,” Victor says, voice still soft and index finger drawn in front of his mouth, breath soon whooshing in-between his lips in a wispy, short-lived <em>shush</em>. “Piers is asleep on the other bed.” Victor’s Rotom phone turns then, focusing upon a small covered lump, dark hair barely peeking from beneath the white sheets, before the screen returns to Victor. “He’s always had trouble getting to sleep.”</p><p>Leon couldn’t quite help the scowl that forms, but Victor’s expression doesn’t change.</p><p>Leaning forward a bit more, Victor explains, “I’m taking Piers to one of his recitals—violin this time—and I’m chaperoning.” The bed creaks as Victor shifts. “Not really a good time to call right now since I’m ‘posed to take him early to Wyndon tomorrow—five in the morning sharp. Talonflame can make it. She’s a bit slower than Calem’s, but that doesn’t matter. Most taxis can’t beat her.”</p><p>“But it’s my time. You said any time after seven and before three. It’s nine right now.”</p><p>It’s childish, so very childish of him, but he couldn’t help the whine that slips in. Though, Victor doesn’t comment on it. He only brings his finger in front of his lips again, air whistling softly once more.</p><p>“Quieter please,” he says before lowering his hand. “It’s just not a good time right now, Leon. Sorry.”</p><p>“B-but…you promised.” Leon fumbles, lump forming in his throat and soon swallowed. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Victor, especially not over something as trivial—it’s not trivial, not to him—as this. “You haven’t even told me about what happened earlier. At my birthday.”</p><p>“And you haven’t answered my question,” Victor replies, voice even. “Why’d you lie?”</p><p>It’s too soft to be considered yelling, but it is a chastisement, nonetheless.</p><p>One that he couldn’t avoid.</p><p>“I…” Leon begins, swallowing. “I didn’t think it would hurt. I thought it’d be harmless, and well…I just wanted you to stay for a bit longer. We don’t really get to meet up often—outside of our calls I mean—and Ms. Eliza always talks about you. I didn’t think it’d be a problem…”</p><p>Leon doesn’t mention Piers or the ire he feels at his frequent inclusions into their conversations. He doesn’t really understand it himself, nothing outside of what it makes him feel, hot and sweaty and agitated.</p><p>He doesn’t understand it, and he doesn’t think Victor would either.</p><p>It’s too strange, too out of the ordinary for him.</p><p>Or perhaps Victor would understand.</p><p>He is rather odd after all.</p><p>Nonetheless, he doesn’t speak, doesn’t continue.</p><p>He only waits for Victor’s reply, palms sweating and fingers clenching at his own sheets.</p><p>No yelling, no cut phone calls, and no ended correspondence.</p><p>Instead, Victor’s eyes soften, brown pooled like melted chocolate on summer concrete, before his lips move, pale pink forming into words and voice soft, wispy as always.</p><p>“It’s fine, Leon,” Victor says after a pause. “Just don’t do it again. I…” Another pause comes as Victor shifts. “I don’t have the best relationship with my mom, and I’d prefer not to see her again. Alright?”</p><p>At Leon’s expression, Victor elaborates, “We had some issues in the past, concerning the Champion position. I…I didn’t want it, and she disagreed. Thought I was makin’ a bad decision, and well, everything just escalated. Prior issues, you know?” He snorts then, more sardonic than anything genuinely cheerful. “Of course, I run the Battle Tower now, but it’s not quite good enough. Expenses and all that. Plus, I don’t allow just anyone to enter—only the best or those with potential.”</p><p>“Why?” Leon blurts out. It’s rather callous of him considering everything, but he couldn’t quite stop himself. He’s too curious. “I mean. Doesn’t everyone want to be Champion?”</p><p>He’s a bit too loud, and he can see Victor turn, checking briefly on the other occupant of his room. Though thankfully, Piers hadn’t awakened, bed springs only creaking slightly as he rolls over, a consequence of a bad dream most likely.</p><p>Though, truth or not, he’s rather certain that Victor would hang up if Piers were to awaken.</p><p>Victor shakes his head. “I don’t.”</p><p>“But <em>why</em>?” He couldn’t help but continue. He doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand Victor or any of his proclivities. “It’s a good position, and Hop says you’re amazing. <em>You’re better than hi—</em>“</p><p>“I hate everyone, Leon,” Victor interrupts, voice louder and more forceful, before he quickly spares a glance over to the side. His voice quiets, softer than before. “I hated how they looked at me, how they always expected and wanted something. Always tried to flatter me too—bunch of lying hypocritical shitheads. The moment that I lost, they left. Went back to gossiping and calling me names.” Victor shifts again, bed springs creaking loudly. “And now that the Battle Tower’s becomin’ famous? Bunch of assholes are trying to get on my good side again.”</p><p>He’s fairly certain that neither his mom or Hop would appreciate the vulgarity, but Victor doesn’t stop.</p><p>“Fucking hated having to shake everyone’s hands and smile for everything. Even when they called me dogfucker and a cheating cunt on a live interview.” Victor snorts before his voice raises in pitch. “Do this, Victor. Wear this, Victor. It’ll make you less plain-looking and more attractive to viewers.” Another snort. “Attractive to <em>which</em> viewers?”</p><p>Leon isn’t quite sure of Victor’s meaning, but much like with everything else, he doesn’t explain.</p><p>Not fully.</p><p>He only continues, eyes softening slightly.</p><p>“No,” Victor says, shaking his head. “That isn’t quite right. I don’t quite hate everyone. Rather, I hate <em>most</em> people. I like Piers, my friends—even Bede—and I like you, Leon. Wouldn’t answer your calls if I didn’t.”</p><p>There’s a certain thrill he feels at the mention of his name, cheeks flushing as a heady warmth swells inside his chest, feeling only mildly dampened by the mention of Piers, bitterness almost unnoticeable. He’s rather glad for the dimness of his room, face illuminated only by the light of his screen and the distant, dull white glow of his desk’s lamp.</p><p>“Look, the position isn’t as nice as you think. I’m not as suited for it as your brother.” Victor doesn’t pause even as Leon opens his mouth to interject. “He’s much better with people than I am.” Victor smiles, wry. “He’s probably told you that I’m hard to get along with, right? A bit moody too?”</p><p>Victor makes a light wave with his hand at Leon’s expression. “Don’t worry. I know how I am. I’ve always been much better with Pokémon than with people.”</p><p>“You’re not that bad with people.” Leon stops then, voice catching in his throat. It isn’t for a lack of a words but rather for the contents of it.</p><p>
  <em>You’re good to me. You notice me.</em>
</p><p>Too embarrassing and too intimate.</p><p>Even he could understand that but that is where his comprehension ends. He doesn’t understand the reason for his response, words childlike in form yet meaning wholly perverse—unlike him.</p><p>Nevertheless, he doesn’t speak, and Victor doesn’t comment on his pause, lips having parted slightly in the beginning of a sentence—syllables catching like a fish upon a fisherman’s hook.</p><p>Instead, Victor only continues, hand waving slightly once more. “No, really. I’m not good with people.” Victor shakes his head. “I really am sorry though. I can’t do it tonight. I promised Piers we’d get there early, and I don’t wanna lie to him, you know?”</p><p>“Y-yeah.” It’s a short, almost stifled phrase, but Leon doesn’t think he could muster any other response, not without slipping up.</p><p>
  <em>You’re good to me. You notice me.</em>
</p><p>Too embarrassing and too intimate—especially for them.</p><p>At his words, Victor nods. “Good.” He spares another glance towards Piers before continuing, “Don’t worry too much ‘bout your lessons or your request. I won’t abandon them if you won’t. It’s business, and I’m not a liar.”</p><p>Victor leans forward, tapping the screen lightly, more for show than for any actual purpose. “Call me around our normal time in three days, and we can go back to our usual routine. Piers doesn’t have any more recitals until next month, so we should be fine. That alright?”</p><p>He still doesn’t understand the swell within his chest, heart thumping rapidly, or the annoyance he feels at Piers’s mention, but he doesn’t argue.</p><p>He only nods, lips muttering a simple <em>okay</em>.</p><p>One word, two syllables.</p><p>Yet, there is a peculiarity to it, unfamiliar and unbearable yet not quite unwelcomed.</p><p>He doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t think Victor would either.</p><p>Victor isn’t supposed to be good with people after all.</p><p>Liar.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My Pokemon doujinshis also came in! I paid so much money for them, but I love Piers/Victor and the other works...still waiting on more tbh...</p><p>Also working on more Pokemon fanfics too...that's not gonna change any time soon...</p><p>Do you also notice how Victor talks sometimes? How he cuts some of his syllables and shortens words? It's rather intentional...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Orange</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As the younger brother, Leon is expected to act in a certain way and take certain roles, life decided beforehand and choices based simply on his older brother's.</p><p>It isn't something that Leon particularly cares for, but perhaps he should have considering going to someone else for help instead of his brother's best friend.</p><p>It would have certainly saved him the trouble of everything now.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite Victor’s words, their routine doesn’t quite return back to normal.</p><p>It isn’t that Victor misses their meetings—true to his word, he makes time for him—but rather, there’s an oddness to them, a particular agitation stemming not from Victor but from he himself.</p><p>He doesn’t understand the reason for why his eyes linger, gaze trailing upon skin like an artist’s brush, or the reason why his mind wanders, explanations and conversations taken in but unabsorbed.</p><p>Certainly, he pays attention—he tries to anyhow—but nothing sticks, explanations soon repeated in that familiar, wispy tone.</p><p>Once, twice, and even thrice at times, Victor repeats his explanations, voice even if a bit soft over his phone’s speaker.</p><p>Though, he doesn’t <em>mind</em> listening to Victor. It’s rather the opposite.</p><p>He looks forward to it. Even on the occasions when Victor’s words reach him, he asks for an explanation, a repetition of everything—voice humming as pianist’s keys would.</p><p>He doesn’t think Victor minds. At the very least, Victor doesn’t vocalize his irritations.</p><p>But still, he doesn’t mention it, not to his brother and certainly not to Victor.</p><p>Instead, he only lets it, the peculiarity, swell within his chest, warm and unbidden.</p><p>He doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t have to.</p><p>Not with how warm it is, sensation prickling pleasantly and causing his chest to tighten, breath quickening slightly on the nights that they speak.</p><p>He doesn’t mind it even months later.</p><p>Not until the dreams begin anyhow.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Lemon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As the younger brother, Leon is expected to act in a certain way and take certain roles, life decided beforehand and choices based simply on his older brother's.</p><p>It isn't something that Leon particularly cares for, but perhaps he should have considering going to someone else for help instead of his brother's best friend.</p><p>It would have certainly saved him the trouble of everything now.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Working on an AZ/Calem right now...and then it's back to Galar...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“…and that’s why Charmander depend so much on their tails being lit.”</p><p>He isn’t sure of the reason for why Victor visits tonight—something about a hands-on lesson—but he doesn’t object to it.</p><p>Why would he? It’s for his lessons after all, and it is a rather lonely night—brother having vacated his room the week before because of work. Like most of Hop’s visits home, he could never quite stay for long.</p><p>The company’s nice in Leon’s opinion. It isn't good to be alone.</p><p>Really, the only complaint, if it could even be called one, that he has is about their current distance.</p><p>Seated across from him on his bed, scattered textbooks open on the Wooloo-print blankets, Victor is entirely too close, body leaning forward as to point at a line of text, Charmander diagram set on the opposing page.</p><p>With each word, finger tracing along the words, Leon’s eyes wander, more intent on Victor himself rather than the pages—on the delicate wrists, the slim hands, and on the motions, careful and purposeful.</p><p>Victor’s fingers are slender, each one finely shaped and tipped by well-kept nails, pink fingernails akin to flower petals, and each one drawing a peculiar interest from him.</p><p>He wants to touch them, fold their hands together as origami pieces often are, fingers interlacing gently.</p><p>Delicately formed and carefully kept—Leon almost reaches a hand forth until a voice snaps him out of his reverie.</p><p>“…are you listening? Leon?” A hand cups his cheek, warmth searing. “Leon?”</p><p>“Y-yeah.” Victor doesn’t remove his hand even as Leon shifts, cheeks flushing further. With the lamp light dim as it is, he hopes Victor doesn’t notice. He almost wants to move, pull away from Victor’s touch, but he couldn’t, not with the way Victor looks at him, curious and intent.</p><p>He wants Victor to notice him.</p><p>After a few moments of silence—it’s hot, so very hot despite the running air conditioner—Victor tilts his head, voice murmuring.</p><p>“Do you really like me that much?”</p><p>That startles Leon from his thoughts, and he shakes his head. “N-no. I mean…w-what do you mean?”</p><p>You know,” Victor responds, unperturbed. “Do you like me? As more than a friend?”</p><p>He tilts his head again, expectant.</p><p>“N-no.” It’s a weak response even to his own ears, and at his words, Victor frowns.</p><p>“I’ve told you already. I don’t like liars.” Victor leans closer, bed creaking underneath his weight and lips barely brushing against his. His other hand moves to rest on Leon’s chest. “Don’t lie to me.”</p><p>“I-I don’t.” His cheeks are burning, heat entirely unhelped by the way Victor’s breath brushes against his lips and the fingers caressing lightly against his cheek.</p><p>Leon almost wants to lean into the touch, but he doesn’t. He couldn’t.</p><p>Not when he feels Victor’s hand push against his chest, shoving him downward onto his back, and a weight press against him, warm in a way that makes his shiver, pressure tightening in his stomach and groin.</p><p>Lips press against his, teeth nipping painfully and drawing a moan before a tongue delves in, wet and slimy. A hand pulls at his shirt, fingers slipping underneath the thin fabric to grope at his stomach and chest, as a knee presses against his groin, grinding roughly against his clothed cock.</p><p>He knows that he should push Victor away or at the very least, scream—it’s inappropriate, actions crossing the boundary of the acceptable—but he doesn’t.</p><p>He couldn’t, not with how everything makes him feel, pleasure tingling with every brush of skin and with the pressure building in his groin, leaking cock pressing against the tight confines of his underwear. Instead, he only thrusts against Victor’s knee in an attempt to generate more friction.</p><p>He shouldn’t be as eager as he is, kiss sloppily returned and voice noisy as he feels fingers caress at his nipples, nails pinching and pulling at the dark nubs.</p><p>Though more importantly, he likes Victor too much to resist—likes his attention too much.</p><p>He doesn’t want Victor to turn away from him.</p><p>When they separate, spit dribbling down from his mouth and chest heaving, Leon feels Victor’s hand trail to his hair, fingers stroking through the messy strands.</p><p>“Such a naughty boy,” Victor murmurs, words drawing another shiver. “Lying to me like that.” Another high-pitched squeak leaves him as he feels a particularly rough tub, sensitive nipple rolled in-between calloused fingers and pinched. “Look at how excited you are! Are you sure you don’t like me?”</p><p>Victor’s hand slides down from his nipples, fingertips prodding briefly at his stomach, before a hand gropes at his crotch, squeezing roughly and drawing both a thrust and a loud moan.</p><p>“Well?” Victor squeezes his cock again and gives a tug on his hair, motion pulling at the roots.</p><p>Y-yeah.” His eyes are watering even as he feels the pressure build within his stomach. Furthermore, his briefs are too tight, fabric pushing against his cock and agitating. “I-I do.”</p><p>“Good.” Victor nods at that, and Leon feels him squeeze his cock again before his hand trails upward to the waistband of his pajamas, fingers dipping teasingly underneath the elastic. “Now, do you want me to fuck you?”</p><p>At Victor’s words, Leon’s breath hitches, noise only increasing in intensity as he feels another tug on his hair.</p><p>He should decline—it’s what would objectively be right—but he doesn’t. He likes him—wants him—too much for that.</p><p>It’s Victor after all. He’s older. He knows a lot. He wouldn’t hurt him.</p><p>Thus, Leon only finds a low <em>yes, please</em> leaving his lips, cock once against thrusting into Victor’s waiting hand.</p><p>“Good boy,” Victor murmurs, breath ticking the skin of his throat and voice drawing a shudder. “You even remembered your manners.”</p><p>Hot—he’s so very hot, briefs tightening further as his cock hardens, sweaty flesh pushing against the thin cotton of his briefs. He wants to cum—it’s so tight, cotton soaked with his pre-cum—but instead, he only finds himself rutting into Victor’s palm.</p><p>He wants Victor to touch him, fuck him entirely and roughly. He could already feel his fingers sliding into his briefs, calloused fingertips brushing against the soft skin, flesh lightly covered by a thin patch of pubic hair.</p><p>“Such a good boy,” Victor repeats, breath tickling at the curve of his neck. “So eager for me to breed you. Wouldn’t that be a nice reward for you?”</p><p>Leon doesn’t reply. Instead, he only thrusts again, panting as his groin grinding against Victor’s palm.</p><p>He wants to be touched so badly. He wants <em>Victor</em> to touch him.</p><p>Thrusting once more, Leon feels Victor’s fingers prod against the length of his cock.</p><p>So close, but it isn’t enough.</p><p>“P-please.” Embarrassing. Utterly embarrassing, but he wants to be touched, hand wrapped around his cock and fondled. “P-please touch me. Please.”</p><p>Victor hums, noncommittal, before his hand moves to wrap around his cock.</p><p>Warm and tight and pleasant, skin against skin.</p><p>So very close to what he truly wants.</p><p>And thus that is when he wakes up, bedsheets and briefs soaked in sweat and pre-cum, blankets tousled and thrown aside.</p><p>No partner, no soft touches, and no warmth, nothing outside of his own body heat.</p><p>He’s alone, entirely alone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I still gotta do Minccino AU as well since I have that on my list alongside the Piers/Victor/Leon one.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I like to think that an age swap AU would mean that relationships change/become "reversed." Otherwise, that's just the "canon" characters but with the names swapped off tbh. I actually made a fair number of considerations before settling into personalities and roles for everyone.</p><p>As a side note, Proteam Omega is an "actual" show from the Pokemon Canon, more specifically the canon of Pokemon Special. I also like to think that Victor is like early twenties here (twenty-four?) here since well, it's an age swap.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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